


Little Wolf

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst probably, F/M, Jonsa Countdown, Lots of things, Minor Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Tragedy, jonsa, jonsa baby au, jonsa modern au, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: In the wake of tragedy, Jon and Sansa find themselves parents to a baby girl.They haven't seen each other in over a year. They hardly know how to be around each other anymore, but they must put aside their past to focus on her future.[Written for the Jonsa Countdown on tumblr]





	1. Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> challenging myself to write a multi-chapter fic based on the jonsa countdown prompts. good luck @ me. 
> 
> hope you guys enjoy it!

Her mother looked tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes and loose tendrils of hair escaping from her normally kept bun. She needed a break from all of this. Sansa could handle the arrangements and the guests. Her mother didn’t need to shoulder all of the responsibility. It would do her some good to find rest amidst the chaos that would inevitably befall them in a few short hours.

“Mum.” She approached warily, footsteps light on the wooden floorboards as if she was a lion sneaking up on a gazelle, but even as tentative as she moved, her mother still startled. Wide blue eyes, glassy and unfocused, looked back at her. Sansa placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me do this, please.” 

“The catering isn’t even here yet,” her mother said. “I told them to be here by one, but they’re not here. We can’t – we can’t start without the food, Sansa.”

Her grip tightened. “Mum, go rest. I’ll deal with the catering.” 

There was a long pause as the two Stark women stared at each other. Her mother appeared to be considering refusing the offer, but thankfully, exhaustion wore out and she nodded, retiring to her room. Sansa gave a sigh of relief once the door clicked shut. It was easier to think with her mother gone. Since it happened, her thoughts had been loud, pulsing, achingly present and jumbled. With the silence of the house as company, Sansa could still it into something more manageable. She’d always been good at compartmentalising. 

The call to the caterer went as smoothly as she’d expect from today, which meant they would arrive half an hour before the guests were to arrive. It was better than no catering at all, so she was resigned to letting that one particular problem go. Then, Sansa dealt with the florist and the arrangements for after. She did everything she could do, and yet all the while knowing she was avoiding the one thing she _had_ to do. It was a problem she couldn’t face right now, figuratively and literally, and that might make her the most awful person in the world, but couldn’t she be awful for just one day? For just _today_? 

The backdoor opened around two. At first, Sansa had hoped it was the caterers coming half an hour early, but the voices reached her from where she sat in the kitchen and her heart sank to the soles of her feet. Not the caterers. No, it was the one person she didn’t want to see right now, more than the problem she’d been avoiding all day. 

“Sans.” Her sister took one look at her and sighed. She wrapped her in her tiny arms, face pressed against Sansa’s chest. “You look like shit.” 

That drew out a surprised laugh that Sansa didn’t know was still in her. She tightened her own arms around her sister. “Yeah, so do you.” 

“Mum?” 

“Asleep for now,” she said. “The boys?” 

“Out back in the tree house.” Arya pulled back and glanced over her shoulder. “So are you two just going to ignore each other for the rest of your lives?”

Sansa sighed, pulling her hair over one shoulder to plait it. A nervous tell. “I’m not ignoring him.” 

“You’re not even speaking directly to him,” her sister pointed out. “ _Jon_ , c’mon. At least you be the mature one here.” 

She heard him move from where he’d been standing in the doorway and she finally tore her gaze up to look at him. His curls were still as unruly as they’d always been – soft, bouncy and flopping over his forehead. And he looked good in his black shirt, the broadness of his shoulders filling it out nicely. But Sansa had always been attracted to Jon. This wasn’t new, nor would it ever stop being new for her. What was new was the droop in his shoulders, the way his eyes never really quite reflected the half-smile on his lips and the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t quite understand her anymore. It had been over a year since Sansa last saw him. Maybe he didn’t anymore. Maybe _no one_ did anymore. 

“Arya, can you give us a minute?” The gravelly tone of his voice made goosebumps dance along her arms. She ignored it, opting to watch as her sister left without any fanfare. 

“We have to talk about this.”

Sansa ran her fingers through her plait until it pulled her hair loose again. She couldn’t meet his eyes. A coward’s move, but she was a coward today. “I don’t know what there is to say.” 

“We have to figure this out, Sansa!” He was aggravated, she realised, finally looking at him and seeing the careful mask begin to crack. He could never hide himself from her. That was what was terrifying about being near him. “We have to do this. For them. It’s what they wanted, right?” 

Sansa was like her mother in many ways. They were pragmatic women, skilled in knowing when to push emotions aside to get things done, cool and calm under pressure, but never with him. She broke every time. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” she snapped, standing up to face him. “It’s all I’ve thought about! I just don’t know what to do! I don’t know how they could think that I’d be a good –” Sansa stopped herself, unable to even say the word. She shook her head. “I’m not ready for this, Jon. I don’t want any of this.” 

She crumbled before him; a pathetic mess when she should be strong. Sansa hid her face in her hands, capturing her tears against the crevices of her palms. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready. Not like this. 

Warm, calloused hands circled both her wrists and pried them from her face. Jon studied her, those grey eyes feeling like they could reach inside of her soul and pull out the secrets she kept so hidden to her heart. “Me neither,” he whispered. He dropped her hands, but used his thumb to wipe away her tears. “But we’re here now. We have to do it.” 

“What if I mess it up?” She didn’t want to consider even the possibility of what she was asking, but this was a world beyond her realm of understanding. Failure seemed so likely, so inevitable, that she couldn’t help the insecurity from surging inside of her and choking her lungs of oxygen.

“I’ll be there to help clean it up,” Jon said. “And if I mess it up, you’ll be there too. Sansa, we _can_ do this, but only together.” 

“They’re asking a lot from us,” Sansa replied, shaking her head. “They must’ve known that.”

He laughed. “I think they always thought if it happened we’d figure it out by then. I don’t think they expected us to have to do it or that it’d happen so early on.” 

Sansa took his hand, squeezing tightly. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?” 

“We will,” Jon answered her. 

He tugged on her hand and pulled her along with him, leading Sansa away from the kitchen and up the stairs. She knew where he was taking her, but she didn’t want to pull her hand back. He comforted her in ways she’d long denied from herself. Today, she needed him, and she suspected he needed her too. 

The brightly painted door opened with a creak as Jon poked his head through. The two of them walked towards the centre of the room, hand-in-hand, and peered into the crib. There in a pale lilac onesie was a six-month-old girl with a crop of dark hair and beautiful blue eyes. She gurgled, blinking up at them as she reached her tiny fists forward. Sansa’s heart simultaneously swelled and ached for this darling girl. 

“She won’t remember them,” Jon said softly, dropping Sansa’s hand to cradle the baby in his arms. “She won’t know.” 

“We’ll have to tell her.” 

“When she’s old enough,” he said firmly. He met her eyes. “But if we do this, we can’t just be surrogates, Sansa. You know this, right?” 

That was what she’d been afraid of, but there were no other options. This girl was her responsibility now, whether Sansa was ready or not, and she would fight tooth and nail to make sure she did right by her. “We’ll be her parents, I know.” 

They descended into silence then, both too transfixed with watching the baby chew on Jon’s shirt. In light of what had happened, it should be impossible to feel such happiness, but being here in this moment to witness something so inane made the world just that touch brighter. 

“For what it’s worth,” Jon spoke quietly. “Robb and Margaery didn’t make a mistake when they chose you. You’ll be a great mother, Sansa. I believe that.”

Sansa leaned forward to drop a kiss on Jon’s cheek. “You’ll be a great father too.” She then dropped another kiss onto the baby’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, Chloe?” The baby giggled that melodic, wondrous sound that only a child could make. “I think she agrees with me.” 

“Yeah, that’s why.” 

“Whatever happens, we’ll love her as much as we loved them,” Sansa said to him, placing a hand over his arm. “As much as they loved _her_. That’s all we can do. Everything else, we’ll figure out.”

“Together,” Jon nodded, smiling at her. It was the soft kind of smile that had once captured her heart so intensely in its web. She wasn’t convinced it still didn’t have that same effect, but there were more important things now. What Jon and Sansa might have had was a past they didn’t have time to explore. Chloe was priority. That was what mattered. 

But she had to say something, a feeling she couldn’t readily deny even if she wanted to. “I’m glad you’re home, Jon. I’m glad you’re back even under these circumstances.” 

“Me too.” 


	2. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 2 of jonsa countdown

It had rained endlessly for days. There were puddles the size of the loch outside of her house. If she wasn’t already on maternity leave, she would’ve called in sick to avoid drowning. There was a storm brewing in from the east, according to the weather report. People were urged to avoid driving unless necessary, but there had been an increase in accidents anyway. Sansa tried to avoid listening to the news after that. She didn’t want to know. Three months later, and it still hurt like it had just happened yesterday.

Sansa bounced Chloe on her hip. The baby girl was fussy during a rainstorm. She hated the sound of pitter-patter on the rooftop; it kept her awake and the lack of sleep was beginning to drain the both of them. Sansa couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a good six hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Sansa murmured quietly, walking into the kitchen. The cup of tea she had made for herself sat cold and forgotten - immediately neglected as soon as the baby monitor started to echo with Chloe’s cries. “It’s just the rain. We like the rain.”

The baby girl sniffed and stared up at Sansa with wide teary eyes. The look was eerily like disbelief - like this nine-month-old had understood what Sansa was trying to say and she clearly didn’t buy it.

“Okay, maybe you don’t like it now,” she amended, chuckling. She turned away from the kitchen, deciding tea was not going to help now anyways, and went back into the lounge. She settled onto the sofa and wrapped them both up in a large quilt. “But you will one day, Chloe. Rain signifies rebirth. That’s what we’re doing.” She poked her chubby cheeks gently. “We’re cleansing away the bad and we’re starting anew. Together, me and you. We’re a family now.”

Chloe blew raspberries up at her. It wasn’t much of a response, but it still made Sansa smile in spite of the heavy weight on her chest. It was still so hard. Everything about this situation was so painfully surreal. Her nights, in the moments she could find sleep, were consumed with flashing images of red and blue sirens, the sound of screeching tires, and lifeless eyes staring back at her. They were so demanding, so judging - as if they were there to say she wasn’t doing enough, strong enough or brave enough to weather this new path her life had taken.

Sansa cuddled Chloe tighter, pressing her nose up against the baby’s temple. “I love you, lil’ wolf,” she said softly. “I love you so much, but I’m so scared I’ll mess this all up. You deserve so much better than I can give. You deserve your real parents.”

Oh, how Robb would’ve doted on his little girl; how much he would’ve wanted to watch her grow up, intimidate her boyfriends or girlfriends as she was picked up for a date - oh, it would’ve been so sweet to have seen that.

Unbidden tears ran down her cheeks. She normally tried to reign it in for Chloe, but the loss was still so new. Every time she looked at this little girl, she saw Robb’s hair, the cheeky smile on her little face and Margaery’s eyes. She saw so much of their love in her. How could she replace them like that? How could she sit here and claim to be this girl’s mother when she had such a wonderful one?

The door creaked open and the wind howled from the outside, droplets of rain flying around the room for the five seconds it took for the person to close the door.

“It’s pissing it down outside. You’re lucky you don’t have to -” He paused, stopping just a few feet away from her. “Sans, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” She kissed Chloe’s forehead and hid her face in the quilt. “I’m fine, Jon.”

She heard a thump from where he must’ve dropped the bags of grocery. A second later, she felt his arm wrap around her. “Tell me.” He tilted her face with his free hand so she’d be forced to look at him. The tears had stopped, but they stained her cheeks, drying like visible tracks of weakness. She hated letting anyone see her like this. But it always seemed to be Jon who found her at her worst. “You’re not fine, so don’t bother lying.”

Chloe made a displeased noise then, as she wriggled in Sansa’s arms, trying to get to Jon. The action seemed to startle him, as if he had forgotten about the tiny girl for a moment. He pried Chloe loose from the quilt and kissed her soundly on one cheek and then the other, causing her to giggle loudly.

“Always want to be the centre of attention, don’t you, Chlo?” Jon laughed. “You’re just like your father, you know that?”

“And her mother too,” Sansa reminded him, to which he laughed again.

“Aye, and her mother.”

In the quiet that befell them, Sansa listened to the sound of the rain outside. It was hard to believe in the words she spoke to Chloe when her own grief was so consuming, like a black hole sucking her very existence inward and ripping it apart. She held it in as best as she could, but Sansa was only human. She could only withstand pain for so long.

“You don’t have to be brave in front of us.” Jon was watching her, one hand cupping the back of Chloe, while the other gently circled her wrist. “We’re both here for you.” His thumb rubbed soothing circles along her skin.

A sob broke free in spite of her resistance. She shook her head. “I’m just tired… I’ll be fine.”

“When was the last time you slept?” He edged forward to better study her; she knew he was taking note of the circles under her eyes and the pallid complexion of her skin. He’d always been observant. “Sansa, answer me.”

“I don’t know. Last night for a couple hours,” she said, averting her gaze. Lying was pointless anyways. And she no longer had the energy to put up a front with Jon, not like she did whenever her mother or her siblings came around.

“Okay.” The word was weighted, holding heavier meaning than its two syllables, but she couldn’t read through it this time. Not in the way she normally could with Jon.

Another silence followed, and then Jon was standing. “She’s asleep. I’m going to go put her down. I’ll be right back.”

She watched his retreating form and marveled for a moment over how easily those two could pass for father and daughter. They had the same mop of curly dark hair, the same quiet, easy temperament. Oh, this was dangerous territory. Sansa could see that. But in order to ease the panic so ready to flare up inside of her, she escaped to the kitchen and filled up the kettle with water. She emptied her mug from earlier and replaced it with two new blue rose-printed mugs - a gift from her mother when she moved away for university seven years ago.

Sansa heard him enter the room. She could feel his eyes following her as she moved around the tiny kitchen to prepare the tea. “Still milk and no sugar?” The confirming ‘aye’ led to another bout of silence. It was becoming a regular occurrence. She thought it might have ceased when he moved permanently back to Scotland, but there it was, an ever-looming chasm between them.

“Let me move in.’

The mug tipped in her surprise. She managed to hold on long enough to drop it with a clatter on the countertop, but hot liquid spilled onto her hand. “ _Shit_ ,” she ground out, sucking her injured fingers in between her lips.

“God, I’m so sorry, Sans.” Jon was beside her in seconds, pulling her fingers away and and tugging her gently towards the sink. He ran the tap over her hand, tentatively turning it this way and that so the cold water could ease the heat. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not bloody okay,” she snapped, scowling at him. “You just asked to move in with me. What the hell, Jon?”

He sighed, sounding almost as exhausted as she felt. “I can’t look out for you two if I’m never around. It makes _sense_.”

“Us living together does not make sense,” Sansa fervently argued. “It would be a disaster, Jon, and you know it.”

Jon dropped her hand as if she had been the one to drop scalding water on him. The hurt was there even if only for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know that,” he said softly, though no less firmly. “Do you really think we wouldn’t work well together in raising Chloe? Or is this about -”

“I _think_ we’re already doing so much,” Sansa interrupted. “I don’t need you to give up your life for me. I’m fine on my own.”

“Oh, I know.” The bitterness was unmistakeable, and she had half a mind to tell him off for dredging up things he shouldn’t, but he spoke before she could get a word in. “But you don’t need to do this alone. I’m just as much her parent now as you are. I want to be there for her, Sansa. _Please_.”

The expression in his eyes left her breathless. He was already _there_ , she realised. Where Sansa continued to struggle with being a mother and not an aunt to Chloe, Jon was already there. He already loved her as he would his own daughter; he didn’t want to lose a minute of his time with her, and how could Sansa be so cruel as to keep him away?

“Promise me the minute this doesn’t work, you move out.”

Again, hurt flashed in his grey eyes, and Sansa had to swallow down the guilt. She needed to protect Chloe as much as she did herself. There was a long and complicated past that Sansa couldn’t expose the baby girl to. If it became a problem, she had to make sure Jon was willing to leave.

“I promise.”

“Okay…”

They stared at each other for some time after that. A hundred different stories passing between them in silent contemplation - a past they could no longer return to, a present they could hardly keep up with, and a future they could only hope for.

Abruptly, the sky thundered above, like a thousand dragons roaring overhead to conquer lands unseen. Half a second later, the baby monitor wailed. Just like clockwork.

“I’ll get this,” Jon said, touching her forearm. He stepped forward, hesitant, and then kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest, Sansa. I’ll wake you up for supper.”

“Are you -”

“Sleep, Sans. I’m here now.”

He retreated from the kitchen. Sansa sighed, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room. The mugs of tea once more forgotten, likely cold now. She wasn’t up for tea anymore anyways. As petty as she wanted to be about not needing Jon as much as she really did, her body had different plans and she begrudgingly dragged her feet to her bedroom. The second her head hit the pillow, Sansa was out like a light, three months of grieving and trying to be a mother to an orphaned child taking its toll on her.

When she next woke, the sun had all but disappeared from the sky; although it hadn’t been that present as of late here in this part of Scotland. Winterfell had always been a town cursed with abysmal weather. She pulled herself up to a sitting position, bracing her back up against the headboard of the bed.

It was pointless to wait out this conversation now that she was awake. But even as the phone rang, her heart thumped anxiously.

“Hi, hun. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sansa answered, speaking quietly in fear of Jon being on the other side of the door. “I did something stupid, Jeyne.”

“It was only a matter of time,” her best friend joked, but when she didn’t laugh in response, she heard a sigh come in from the other line. “What happened, Sans?”

“Jon came over and… he asked to move in with me and I said yes.” Now that the words were out, Sansa found she couldn’t stop talking. “I know it’s a bad idea, a terrible one even, but Jeyne, you should’ve seen his face. It wasn’t about me or what happened. This was about Chloe and he loves her so much. I know it pains him to be away from her, and… and how can I keep him from her, right?”

There was a long pause before, “oh Sansa.” Her best friend sighed again. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two have been trying to make this thing work while having one feet in and one feet out. For Chloe’s sake, it’s good you’re doing this.”

“ _Really_?” Sansa had to admit the level of incredulity in her voice was bordering on dramatic, but after all the fuss Jeyne kicked up about how she had to remember to protect her heart if she was ever going to survive Jon Snow being back in town, she expected more.

“I know, I know,” Jeyne said. “But Chloe needs you both. That’s all that matters right now.”

Of course, her friend was right - _again_.

“So you think it’s a good idea that Jon moves in?” she had to make sure.

“For Chloe, yes. For you? No.”

“Great…” Sansa thumped her head back against the headboard. This was just great.

“I know. But for what it’s worth, I think you’ll be okay. All three of you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Jeyne chuckled. “You and Jon love Chloe more than anything else in the world. And past or no past, you both love each other too. In whatever capacity, it doesn’t matter. You trust each other.”

“Yeah…” she murmured. _In whatever capacity_. Somehow that didn’t ease the dread curdling in her stomach. Somehow the capacity mattered to her; she just didn’t quite know in which way she wanted it yet.

Barely ten minutes after she hung up with Jeyne, Jon came to knock on her door. She followed him out to the lounge where her dining table had been unfolded and placed to the side. There were two bowls of spaghetti bolognese set on opposite ends and a bottle of milk on the side where a high chair had been placed.

“Roses, really Jon?”

“They’re for Chloe,” he said, a faint smirk on his lips, as he bent over to kiss the baby girl on her forehead. She giggled. “She’s quite the princess, you know? Kept babbling about ruling Scotland and seceding from Britain.”

“Oh, how very Jacobite of her.” Sansa rolled her eyes at him and settled herself into the seat. “We’ll make a revolutionary of her yet.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he said, meeting her eyes and laughing.

She twirled her fork in the spaghetti and took a generous helping. It’d been too long since she had a real hot meal; the realisation of this becoming clear to her as the homemade taste satiated a previously unknown craving.

“This is delicious.” She glanced up towards him. “Jon, thank you. I mean it. This is really good.”

He shrugged, but there was a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “You won’t be saying that when you find out I only know how to cook three dishes.”

“Well, isn’t that a coincidence? I only know how to cook four dishes. Together, we can have a different meal for each day of the week.”

“What do you know, we fit together perfectly.”

The words so teasing in their intention quickly charged the atmosphere between them with something unspoken. It could’ve gotten so much more awkward if Chloe didn’t suddenly decide she was unhappy with her bottle and threw it to the ground.

“Told you. Princess Chloe is unhappy with the state of the Commonwealth, Sansa.”

And just like that, the tension dissipated.

Just like the storm outside.


	3. Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 3 prompt: childhood

It warmed her heart to see her mother so happy. After all she’d gone through, Catelyn Stark deserved happiness. She’d done so much for their family, shouldered so much when Sansa’s father died and even more so now after Robb and Margaery’s deaths. She even looked younger than she had in years under the morning glow with Chloe giggling on her lap. It was a relief to see her mother hadn’t lost the part of herself that still loved so wholly for her family.

“Mum,” Sansa said, regretful to break up the adorable tickling fight going on between her mother and her little wolf.

“Hmm, sweetheart?”

She fingered the hem of her jumper. It was a topic she had been struggling to broach with her mother for the past week, but it was a decision both Jon and her felt strongly about. She just needed to find the courage to actually ask it. “Do you still have my baby stuff?”

Her mother stilled. She settled Chloe closer to her chest, as she finally glanced up to meet Sansa’s eyes. “Yes, it’s in the attic. Why do you ask?”

“I thought – well, Jon and I thought that we should decorate Chloe’s room with stuff from our childhood.” She swallowed nervously, but forged on before her mother could get a word in. “As well as new stuff we bought together. Everything in there is from the nursery at Robb and Margaery’s place and if we’re going to do this, we want to do it properly. We don’t want Chloe to grow up thinking she’s a burden to us. We’re her parents now. We want it to feel like she’s really ours.”

“I didn’t realise you and Jon were together,” her mother said coolly.

The shock over what her mother decided to focus on wore away in a matter of seconds; in its place, Sansa felt indignation rise like a wave. “ _Mum_ , we’re not dating. We’re just trying to do right by her. This is what Robb and Margaery wanted.”

Her mother sighed and stood up, so she could return Chloe back to her play pen. “I know, Sansa. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you playing house with a man you’re not going to marry. I don’t want you to lose out on your own life.”

Anger bristled underneath her skin, like thousands of tiny pinpricks of frustration. “We’re doing this for Chloe.” All either of them had done for the past three months had been for that little girl. Wasn’t that already obvious to everyone? Jon had to move back from Spain. Sansa had to go on maternity leave from a job she loved. Neither of them were bitter about it, far from it, but they’d made sacrifices. They were doing their best.

“Jon and I are friends,” she added resolutely. “We know exactly what we’re getting ourselves into. Now, you can be supportive or you can –”

“I’m not trying to stop you, sweetheart.” Her mother’s hand found Sansa’s and she gripped it tightly. “But I just don’t want to see you miss out on your own life. Robb wouldn’t have wanted that.”

The mention of what her brother wanted brought an involuntary smile to her lips. Oh, how little her mother really knew of what Robb _wanted_ for Sansa, but considering he wasn’t going to get that either, she felt it probably best not to mention it. She sighed instead. “Right now, I just want to make sure Chloe is adjusting. She’s still not sleeping as well as we’d hope. The pediatrician says it’s normal after a trauma like this, but I think if we really made her nursery _hers_ , it might help.”

“Okay,” her mother said, nodding. “I’ll be over tomorrow evening with your things.” She cradled Sansa’s face with one hand and smiled. “You know I’m so proud of you, right? What you two are doing, it’s a lot, but you’re doing an incredible job with her. Chloe looks happy.”

“Thanks, mum.” Sansa willed herself not to cry. Futile these days, but she really tried to hold it back. She was so _tired_ of crying. “That really means a lot to me.”

Her mother nodded once more before walking back over to kneel before Chloe. She cooed at the baby and ran her hand over the tufts of dark curly hair. Chloe gurgled in response, babbling about something with the kind of excited vigour only babies seemed to have. Sansa chuckled softly, suddenly reminded of Jon and his adamance that Chloe was a young reincarnated Charles Edward Stuart, here to reclaim his throne. It was a stupid joke and completely unfunny, yet it never failed to make her her smile.

“Has she started speaking?”

Sansa snapped back to the present, blinking dumbly at her mother. “What?”

“She’s nearly ten months now, right?” At Sansa’s nod, she elaborated. “Babies usually start speaking around their first birthday. It should be happening soon.”

 _Oh_ , she thought, not quite able to process the idea that Chloe could actually start speaking soon, that one day she would be a living, breathing person with thoughts of her own. _Oh god..._ Sansa was not prepared for this. She could handle a non-verbal Chloe, who listened to everything she said and babbled incoherently in response, but someone who could actually talk back frightened her. What if she asked questions Sansa didn’t have answers to? What if she wanted to know about Robb? About Margaery? What if she resented Sansa for not being her real mother?

“Honey? You look a bit pale, are you okay?”

“I… I have to go make a phone call.” She raced out of the lounge and blockaded herself in her bedroom. Before Sansa could overthink it, she dialed the one person she needed right now.

“Sansa?”

“Jon, what do we do when she’s a teenager?” she started without preamble, the panic flaring up, not for the first time this week. “Do we give her a curfew? Do we say no drinking till she’s eighteen? What happens when she wants to date? What if she talks back! I don’t know if I can –”

“Hey, hey. Sansa, stop it.” Jon sounded amused, which wasn’t helping her situation at all. “Where is this coming from? Last I remembered, Chloe was still a baby.”

She exhaled heavily. “I know, but she’s nearly one, Jon. _One_. Do you know what that means? She’s going to start talking soon.”

“Oh,” Jon said, and she could practically see him nodding along, that dumb half-smile on his face. “How about I pick up that nice Indian you like so much on the way home and we’ll make a game plan? Will that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” she begrudgingly admitted. “Yes, it would.”

“Okay, then that’s what I’ll do. Relax, Sansa. I’ll be home soon.”

It shouldn’t have, but the truth was hearing that did make her body unwind like a coil being stretched out. Jon moved in only over a week ago. His presence in the small two-storey house was already beginning to make itself known. There were men’s shoes lined up by the entrance, his raincoat draped over one of the chairs in the lounge, and the bathroom constantly smelled of his aftershave. Jon was everywhere, so intertwined into her life, that thinking about him and wondering about his day was becoming a constant thought second to that of worrying over Chloe. It was easy to make him a priority – maybe that’s what scared her so much about being near him again. But maybe that’s what made it so easy to find comfort in him when she could hardly stand on her own two feet these days. He was strong, an immovable wall she could lean against – someone who just _knew_ what she was going through. The fear of what being around him again would mean simply had to wait; Sansa needed Jon, and that was all there was to it.

After saying goodbye to her mother, Sansa put Chloe down for her nap, and then looked around the room. It used to be a study, but the first month after Sansa gained custody, they had cleared everything to make room for the crib. Now, there was a changing table and a shelf lined with Chloe’s toys. The wall was bare, a dull off-white colour. The window was shuttered close, hidden behind even duller pale grey drapes. It was a pathetic nursery. The only colours came from the various bits and bobs they took from Robb and Margaery’s nursery, but it was too painful to look at. They had poured so much love into doting on Chloe and to see it present in this room, watching over a child they would never get the chance to know – Sansa couldn’t have that.

It was a quarter past seven when Jon finally returned. The smell of curry immediately filled the downstairs floor, causing Sansa’s stomach to growl loudly. She turned her body around and placed her chin on the back of the sofa to look at him. “Hi.”

Jon looked up from where he was placing his coat and smiled. “Hey. Good day?”

She shrugged. “I made Chloe her third scarf in two weeks. You tell me.”

Jon’s eyes crinkled with amusement before they drifted to the balls of yarn and knitting paraphernalia on the coffee table. “Well, if it makes you feel better, work was a nightmare.” Jon dropped his bag on the floor and came to sit on the other end of the sofa from her. “Theon decided to bugger off in the middle of our shift and left me alone with twenty kids.”

“That does sound like a nightmare.” Sansa curled her feet underneath her. If imagining her housemate and platonic coparent surrounded by twenty children made her heart race with affection, then she wasn’t going to dwell on it. “Lucky for you, you’re Super Dad now so I bet you knew exactly how to handle it.”

His smile turned soft, _fond_ , and indescribably inappropriate for their situation. “Sansa, you’re not grasping the gravity of the situation. _Twenty_ teenagers.”

Sansa laughed and shook her head. “I’m sure you handled it fine.”

“As well as I could anyway,” he said, chuckling. “Chloe?”

“I put her down a little while ago.”

He nodded. “I’ll say goodnight when I head off to bed.” He stared at her for a second, clearly waiting for her to bring it up, but Sansa was nothing if not stubborn. “Are you going to tell me about your freak out today?”

She pouted. “I did not freak out. I was just… worried.”

“About Chloe being a teenager,” Jon pointed out to her with a mocking grin. “Sansa, she’s barely even a year old. You need to _relax_.”

“Indulge me, Jon.” She moved a little closer so she could make her point across. “Just tell me. What’s our stance on drinking before eighteen?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, let’s at least get some food in us.” Jon began pulling out the different takeaway containers, while Sansa ran back to the kitchen for plates and utensils. Within minutes, they were sitting side-by-side, thighs touching, as they dug into their dinner.

“If she’s going to drink, I’d want her to tell us first,” Jon said around a mouthful of chicken tikka masala. “I want to know where she is and who she’s with. Her childhood should be protected, but I don’t want to control her either.”

“Yeah, I agree with that.” Sansa waved her fork in the air. “Because even if we did try to forbid her, she’d find a way around it. She’s a Stark. We’re notorious rebels.”

“ _You_ , a rebel?” he scoffed and nudged her with his shoulder. “If I remember correctly, you were always the one making sure we drank enough water.”

“Someone had to do it!”

Jon laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, so what’s next?”

“Dating. When should she be allowed to date? I think fourteen. That’s a good age for –”

“Sixteen,” he immediately cut in, looking anywhere but at her. “Or maybe eighteen. Wait until she’s ready for university.”

This time, Sansa was the one to laugh and nudge him. “ _Jon_ , you can’t keep her from dating. I started dating at fourteen.”

“Yeah, and that was fun for everyone,” he mumbled moodily.

He was still avoiding her eyes, but that was just as well because the throwaway comment had forced a blush onto her cheeks. She didn’t want to think about what seventeen-year-old Jon thought of fourteen-year-old Sansa.

“Fourteen and that’s final,” she said, deciding it’s best to ignore what he said completely for her sanity.

“Fine,” Jon grumbled. “But if someone breaks her heart, I get to –”

“What? Beat up a teenager?” She arched her brow and pursed her lips, as she fixed him with a disapproving frown.

He sighed. “I might.”

The night went on like that – the two of them joking and laughing about hypothetical situations and how they should react to them. It was nice, comfortable even, and Sansa could forget for an evening that this wasn’t real – that he wasn’t really hers and she wasn’t really his, that Chloe wasn’t theirs because of a tragedy that had wrecked both their worlds. For a few hours, Sansa could allow herself to be happy without the guilt that came with it.

Eventually, Jon yawned and stretched out his arms, the hem of his shirt rising and showing a sliver of skin. Sansa turned hastily away. She was a grown adult, twenty-five and with an amazing job teaching English at the local secondary school; she was a fulfilled and independent woman; yet suddenly being around Jon again was making her hormones rage dangerously inside of her. He’d always had that effect on her, but surely, time should’ve diminished her attraction. Surely, Sansa shouldn’t be so pathetic when it came to Jon bloody Snow.

“I should get to bed.” He stood up and took the empty containers and plates with him. “We’re going shopping for Chloe’s things tomorrow, right?”

She nodded, swallowing down the very dumb idea that just popped into her head. “Yeah. Um, ten good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s good.”

He disappeared around the sofa and Sansa heard him rummaging around in the kitchen. She listened to the sounds of water running, his footsteps on her linoleum floor, and wondered how exactly had Jon fit so seamlessly into her life. She hadn’t seen him in over a year, and yet, now they were housemates, coparents of a nine-month-old baby girl, and to top it all off, she was lusting after him like she had any right to be. Sansa needed to get a hold of herself. She was being ridiculous.

“Good night, Sans.” He walked back into the lounge and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll check on the little wolf before I head to bed.” He then took the baby monitor off of the coffee table and went upstairs.

This cohabitation thing was going to be the ruin of her one day.


	4. Modern Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 4 prompt: modern universe

Under the rare bout of sunshine, Winterfell looked beautiful. The old winding lane that served as the town’s high street had shops and cafes lined on either side. It was busy on a Saturday, but this wasn’t surprising. People from all over the world travelled to Winterfell – half of them for the beautiful hikes and the other half for the breathtaking winter roses that grew up the buildings like ivy vines all throughout the year. This was her home. No matter how far she travelled, she would always find her way back.

Glancing at Jon and the small smile on his face as he pushed the baby pram along, she suspected he felt the same. It _was_ good to have him home. Jon was a Scottishman; this was where he belonged; this was where he needed to be to breathe. Sansa truly believed that.

The air was crisp, still cold and damp from the storm. Sansa’s nose was bitten pink from the wind, which was only soothed over by the encompassing heat of the sun. She placed a hand on Jon’s forearm, stilling him, and checked to make sure Chloe was all covered up. Her cheeks were a little red, but the wide smile she got when she bent over was a good sign the little wolf was enjoying her day out.

“She’s fine, Sansa.” Jon was looking at her with tender amusement. The expression did funny things to her heart, but she quickly pushed that away. “This is the third time you’ve checked on her since we got here.”

Sansa crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s _cold_ , Jon. And she’s just a baby.”

“A Stark baby,” Jon pointed out. “The cold never bothered her anyway.”

“Did you just quote Frozen?” She furrowed her brows and smirked when his cheeks began to flush completely independent of the weather.

He rolled his eyes, but the flush was there and undeniable on his pale complexion. He started pushing the pram again and inclined his head away from her. “What else was I supposed to do with Chloe when she came over to stay with me? I don’t think Trainspotting is really her kind of thing.”

“She’s a baby. You could sit her down in front of a documentary on snails and she’d be riveted.”

Jon snorted, deciding it was probably best to ignore her teasing. She couldn’t help chuckling at that as she trailed after him. It was easy to forget sometimes how upside down her life was now, or how six months ago she’d been going out for cocktails with her coworkers and going on dates with men who were duller than a doorknob.

“Okay, where are all the baby stores?” He stopped in front of a traffic light and waited for Sansa to catch up. He had a perplexed expression on his face, while he looked from side to side as if he could spot the baby stores from where he stood. Sansa had the sudden urge to slip her arm through his and lean against his body, but that thought wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“I think down by Waitrose.” She pointed in the general direction they needed to be walking in and he nodded.

The light had just turned green when an elderly woman stepped forward. “Oh my, isn’t your daughter such a darling!” She gestured towards an elderly man, who presumably was her husband. “Albert, look. Doesn’t she remind you of Helena when she was a wee babe?”

The man grunted with a low rumbling, “ _aye_.”

“How many months is she?” the woman asked, looking up at Sansa.

“Um, nine months. Almost ten months now.” She didn’t know why she felt she had to add that tidbit of information, but under the curious gaze of this woman, Sansa felt panicky and nervous, like she could see through them and know that Chloe wasn’t _theirs_ and they were both frauds.

The woman made a delighted noise and began to coo at Chloe, who was lapping up all of the extra attention with babbling glee. “She has your eyes,” she said, her focus still on Chloe. “And your husband’s hair. I dare say this little girl will be as beautiful as her parents.”

Sansa flushed and chanced a glance at Jon, who was visibly just as uncomfortable as her. They had never been mistaken for Chloe’s biological parents before. Most of their time had been spent with family, who already knew the nature of their situation, but this was – it felt too much.

“Thank you,” Sansa said as sincerely as she could muster. “I, uh…”

“What’s her name?” the elderly woman interrupted.

“Chloe, ma’am,” Jon answered this time, seemingly able to regain his composure now. “Her name’s Chloe.”

“Oh, what a beautiful name!” The woman finally straightened up and grinned toothily, something mischievous on her face. “I hope you two are planning on giving her more siblings. Children always do better with siblings.”

“Edna, leave the poor kids alone,” her husband admonished. He tugged on his wife’s arm and led her away, not before throwing them an apologetic grin. “We’ll be going now. Have a good day.”

The silence between them felt pregnant with unease. Somehow saying they were going to start acting like Chloe’s real parents and being acknowledged as such were two entirely different things. It felt suddenly wrong, like she was betraying her brother and Margaery, that by letting someone believe that Chloe was her biological daughter she had stepped on their memory.

Jon’s hand slipped over hers, squeezing lightly. “They would’ve wanted this.” He wasn’t looking at her, but she still found comfort in feeling grounded to someone. As he began walking once the light turned green again, Sansa fell into step beside him.

“Chloe deserves to have parents who love her and we both do. Robb and Margaery aren’t going to be angry at us for that. You have got to stop beating yourself up every time you let yourself believe you’re her mother.”

“Easier said than done, Jon,” she said bitterly. “I still lost my brother. I can’t just forget that.”

“Yeah, well me too.”

Sansa glanced at him. The bitterness was there too in his words, laced with the same heart wrenching pain and grief that came with losing a loved one far too early. Jon met her eyes. He didn’t smile; he didn’t offer any words of comfort. Instead, he intertwined their hands and continued to lead them through the Saturday afternoon shoppers.

They finally made it to a brightly coloured store in shades of pink and blue without incident. The name on the sign read ‘Blossoms Baby & Kids’. In the years she had lived here, Sansa was positive she had never been inside this store before. Standing before it now with Jon and Chloe, it looked incredibly daunting and she had to swallow the desire to run away.

Inside, the store was even more colourful, festooned with everything you could ever want for a baby or child. There were toys, cribs, prams, clothes and various other things that she couldn’t make heads nor tails of. Sansa moved closer to Jon. “This is terrifying, right?”

“Worse than when Robb and I got stuck in that snowstorm.”

She chuckled and felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Sansa nudged him and was about to tell him off for being a drama queen when Chloe started to cry excitedly. It appeared she’d caught sight of all of the colourful toys and wanted a first row seat. Sansa let go of Jon’s hand, as they shared bemused grins, and bent to pick her up.

“Alright, little wolf, what are you feeling today?” Sansa walked over towards the toys with Chloe balanced on her hip. “A pink unicorn?” Chloe turned her face and tried to lean forward towards a stuffed snowman. “You want this? Over the unicorn?”

“Probably because it looks like Olaf.”

Sansa hesitated and raised her brow. “Who?”

“You know, the snowman from Frozen?” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon. Are you telling me you didn’t know that?”

“I haven’t seen Frozen,” she admitted with a shrug. She picked up the snowman for Chloe, who immediately latched on. There was something to be said about a child’s innocence and how it could warm the hearts of even the most frigid. Chloe was a testament to that. Her resilience even though she had just lost bother parents was something that made Sansa’s chest tighten with pride. It didn’t matter that she was only a baby; Chloe knew. Of course, she knew that her parents were gone now. But yet here she was, smiling and giggling as she tried to stick Olaf’s head into her mouth.

“What?” came Jon’s incredulous reply from behind her. “But everyone’s seen it!”

Feeling much lighter than she had a few minutes ago, Sansa chuckled at Jon. “Well, I haven’t. Not all of us have time to be watching cartoons.”

“Unbelievable,” he scoffed. “How have I seen more Disney movies than the actual Disney Princess?”

“Excuse me?” Sansa would put her hands on her hips if her hands weren’t already occupied with keeping a wriggling Chloe from falling out of her grasps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jon smirked, moving closer towards her, and tugged on the end of her plait. “If they placed Frozen in the modern universe, you would be a shoe-in for Anna. You’re basically a Disney princess, Sans.”

She crinkled her nose and shook her head to dislodge his grip on her plait. “Is it because we have red hair? _Lots_ of people have red hair, Jon. That doesn’t make me a princess.”

“I think the fact that you made Robb and me call you Princess Sansa for about five years does.” He was still smirking at her, which was a look not wholly unbecoming for Jon.

“C’mon, Chloe. Your daddy is a numpty.” The words slipped out before she had any conscious thought to stop them. They both froze and stared wide-eyed at each other. Sansa desperately wanted to take it back. It was too soon. It was way too soon.

“Jon, I’m sorry. I didn’t –”

“We’re going to have to get used to this, remember?” He offered her his hand. “C’mon. Our lil’ wolf is eyeing that shelf of toys and I think she’s two seconds away from screaming for it.”

Sansa glanced down at Chloe, who was indeed staring forlornly at the toys, and sighed, relief flooding through her. She took Jon’s hand, interlacing their fingers together, and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

After an hour spent in ‘Blossoms Baby & Kids’, Sansa and Jon finally managed to pry Chloe away and emerge from the story with far more stuff than they needed. But this was a commitment. They’d already lost out on nine months of her life as her parents. They had a lot of catching up to do and they were going to do this right. Admittedly, Sansa knew material objects may not be the best way to go about this, but Sansa wanted the nursery to really feel like Chloe’s and not a substitute for a past she couldn’t get back – that neither of them could get back.

Abruptly, pulling her out of her revery, Chloe tugged Sansa’s plait undone and started chewing on the ends. With her other hand, she tapped on Sansa’s cheek repeatedly.

“Do you think she’s trying to tell me something?”

“Either she’s sleepy or she’s hungry,” Jon said. At that moment, Chloe tapped Sansa’s cheek as forcefully as a nine-month-old could, which still managed to make her flinch. “Yeah, she’s definitely cranky. We should get her home before she starts to cry.”

“Yeah, but first, umm… A little help?” Chloe had now somehow managed to tangle Sansa’s hair around her little fingers and the more knotted it became the more she pulled. “Sweetheart – _ow_. Chloe, love, please stop.”

Jon chuckled loudly as he gently wrestled the little wolf’s hands from Sansa’s hair. Once she was free, he took Chloe from her arms and returned her back to the pram. “Looks like Little Red Riding Hood was just attacked by a big bad wolf.”

“You’re mixing up your fairytales,” Sansa grumbled. The ends of her hair were wet with Chloe’s saliva and tightly wound around her bobble.

“Here, let me.”

Jon’s fingers worked deftly through the mess Chloe had made, and doing so with such care it made her heart beat loudly in her chest. It shouldn’t affect her so intensely when Jon was simply this caring with everyone, but Sansa still found it difficult to focus on anything but his proximity. She could feel his breath fanning across her face as he chuckled; she could see the different shades of grey in his eyes and the silver scar above his right eye. When he finally finished freeing her hair from its knots, he met her eyes, a heated charge passed between them, something so familiar yet so strange and new. His finger trailed lightly along the edge of her jawline.

“Sansa, I was wondering if –”

“ _Jon_?”

And then just like that, everything changed. Sansa’s heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach and pain wrenched up her spine like she’d been struck. She immediately stepped away from Jon, glancing over his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Val,” he greeted the blonde woman, as he turned around. “How are you?”

“Since when were you back in town?”

“A couple months ago now.” She could see his shoulders tense, but Sansa couldn’t find sympathy for him in this situation. She couldn’t feel anything, but white hot anger. “Sorry. I’ve been meaning to come by, but… I’ve been busy.”

“Right,” Val nodded. “I heard. Sorry about –” Her eyes caught Sansa’s. “Your losses.”

Sansa pursed her lips. She didn’t want to acknowledge this woman’s apology, but maybe Jon was right. Maybe she was really a princess, dictated by the laws of societal expectations, because if she had it her way, she wouldn’t be smiling politely and offering her hand for her. “Thank you. I’m Sansa. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Not in person anyway,” Val said, throwing Jon a cryptic look, before shaking her hand. “Jon, come say hi, okay? It’d be nice to catch up. And Sansa, it was nice to meet you.”

When the woman finally disappeared back into the throng of people, Jon turned around. “Sans, I –”

“Take me home, Jon,” she cut in coldly, unable to really care right now what he had to say.

She could feel him looking at her, studying her in that way he always did, but a year was a long time. They were no longer the same people. Sansa was no longer that girl he once knew. This just made her realise that the past was meant to stay in the past.

“Okay,” he sighed, his voice soft and defeated. “Okay, let’s go home.”


	5. Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 5 prompt
> 
> i really appreciate you guys reading & commenting. if i don't get a chance to reply to every one of you, know that i'm reading them all. i also just want to say i know it's frustrating not knowing their past but there are still 11 chapters to go so bear with me <3 you'll find out sooner or later. <3

_January 10, 2016_

“I feel like a frozen watermelon,” Margaery complained. She had a protective hand over her engorged belly and another one pressed over her eyes.

It was a typical frosty winter, no different than the last. Snow blanketed the rolling hills and mountaintops, driving most of Winterfell and its neighbouring towns indoors. The temperature had dropped into the negatives late last night. Sansa had come over to watch over Margaery, while Robb, Jon and their team traveled further north to help search for missing hikers. Every year, there was always a couple who thought they could brave the Scottish weather, and every year, the Fire and Rescue team would have to go out and save them. Sansa didn’t want to think badly of people she didn’t know and who were probably already scared beyond their wits, but every time it happened, it was her brother and her friends’ lives on the line and it angered her that there were people that foolish.

“I can heat up a hot water bottle for you.”

Margaery removed her hand, blinking at Sansa, and smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not that uncomfortable yet. Give me a few months though and you might just have to move in. God knows your brother is useless.”

Sansa chuckled. “Robb tries, but…”

“He’s easily distracted?” Margaery snorted and shifted so she could lean against the sofa. “I know. Trust me.”

It had taken awhile for Sansa to warm up to Margaery when they first started dating three years ago. The brunette was kind and sweet, but Sansa always had the underlying sense that she never said what she meant. This proved to be true the more Sansa got to know her, but Margaery was an ambitious woman in a male-dominated world. She learned a long time ago that in order to succeed in life she had to keep her cards close to her chest; otherwise men will try to undermine her at every given opportunity. Sansa could understand that. In fact, learning to steel oneself away from the world was a lesson she had learned all too well, and that had been the defining moment in their friendship. Knowing that about Margaery made Sansa like her infinitely more, and knowing Sansa understood made Margaery more open to her as well.

But being close to Margaery Tyrell-Stark also meant the woman was as shrewd as ever in reading her.

“What’s going on with you and Jon?”

No holding punches; just blunt interrogation.

Sansa resolutely kept her eyes glued to the tv. “We’re friends.”

“Don’t. You can fool Robb, but c’mon. Friends don’t eyefuck each other from across the room.” At Sansa’s groan, Margaery made a triumphant little noise. “Indulge a pregnant woman.”

“Jon is Jon, Marg. I don’t know what you want me to say,” she sighed, already feeling exhausted with this conversation. It was one Jeyne brought up quite frequently, and even Theon at one point, but that was a drunken awkward conversation she’d rather forget. “He’s…”

“Your perfect soulmate?” Margaery supplied. She squealed with laughter when Sansa kicked her foot. “Okay, fine. You’re friends. Do you want something more?”

“No,” she answered a little too quickly. “After Petyr, I just…” She hesitated. This was something she hadn’t ever told anyone before, not even Jeyne, but maybe it was time to confess. “The thought of _anyone_ touching me makes me feel dirty and I don’t want to feel that way about Jon.”

Margaery’s hand slipped into Sansa’s. She squeezed lightly. “You know it’ll pass, don’t you, Sans? That feeling will go away.”

“ _When_?” she demanded. “When will I stop looking over my shoulder and imagining his face there? Because it hasn’t stopped and I just – Jon means too much to me, Marg. I can’t let this taint him the way it has everything else in my life.”

“So, he’ll wait.” Her friend looked at her with such sincerity in her words it made Sansa’s heart ache because it simply wasn’t true.

“And I’d be a bitch to ask him to,” Sansa pointed out. “Jon deserves better.”

“Better than you?” Margaery snorted. “There’s no such thing, babe.”

Thankfully, Sansa was saved from replying when the door burst open. A swirl of snow swept into the house, as Robb and Theon carried a limping Jon over to the adjacent sofa. Sansa immediately stood up, panicked and worried. Jon’s face was contorted in pain.

“What happened?” Margaery asked. She wiggled, but then decided standing up was too much of an effort for her. “Are you alright?”

Jon sighed. “Slipped. It’s nothing.” When Sansa moved towards him, he put up a hand, his smile fond but tired. “Sans, I’m okay I promise.”

She rolled her eyes as she settled on her knees to take a look at his leg. “Where does it hurt?”

“We already checked. Nothing’s broken, but he probably twisted his knee, the prick.” Her brother had his arms crossed over his chest. The Robb Stark sign of abject displeasure. “We told him not to be a hero, but he just had to go and do it anyway.”

“What did he do?” She glanced towards her brother, whose eyes betrayed his anger. He was just as concerned as her.

“Their knapsack got stuck on the side of a cliff with their cameras inside. Apparently it had a year’s worth of photos.” Robb didn’t sound impressed, and neither was Sansa.

“So _you_ decided it was your job to save it?” she demanded of the man before her. Jon had the good sense to look regretful. Sansa still stood up and smacked his shoulder. “You numpty.”

He caught her hand before she could pull back and circled his fingers around her wrist. “I’m sorry, Sansa.” Jon’s eyes looked earnest, but he also looked like he was more sorry for worrying her than getting injured. “Hey, forgive me?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “No.” Sansa turned back to her brother and friends. “I assume you brought him here so I could drive him home?”

Theon looked sheepish. “His flat is on the opposite side of town. We just figured you’d want to since you two are –”

Margaery kicked him harshly in the shin, causing Theon to yelp loudly. She smiled sweetly back. “Since you two are such good friends.” She turned her smile onto her husband. “Robb, honey, can you help me up the stairs? All this drama is making me sleepy.”

It wasn’t the most subtle save, but Robb was all too eager to please his pregnant wife, so he nodded and quickly went over to help Margaery up.

“Let yourselves out. Night!” she called as the two disappeared up the stairs.

Theon rubbed his leg and sighed. “My cue to leave too. Call me tomorrow, Snow. And uh, sorry, Sans. Bye.”

As the door clicked shut and the voices of Margaery and Robb disappeared behind their bedroom, Sansa sighed, running her free hand through her hair. Jon laughed and tugged her towards him. “Don’t,” she said. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he emphasised. He still had his hand wrapped around her wrist, soothing the worry that he was in any danger tonight. “There _was_ a moment when I thought that this might be it,” he admitted quietly. He watched her carefully as he spoke. “It was a split second truthfully, barely worth mentioning, but in that second I thought, ‘god, I can’t die. I still have to take Sansa to the Chelsea Flower Show.’”

Sansa laughed. “Really? That was what you were thinking about?”

“Yeah,” Jon smirked, as he dropped her hand and leaned back against the sofa, a picture of ease. “I can’t disappoint my favourite girl.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, the kind of unbidden hope and affection she didn’t want. Sansa stepped away. “We should get you home. It’s getting late.” If Jon noticed the abrupt change, he didn’t comment on it. He merely nodded and stood up shakily on one leg. Sansa immediately went to shoulder his weight. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to A&E?”

“If it doesn’t get better in a couple days, I’ll go. Will that make you feel better?”

“Make it twenty-four hours.”

“You got it, Princess Sansa.” He bowed his head and tugged on the end of her hair like he always did when he thought he was being cute. Sansa snorted. Together, they half stumbled their way to her car.

Once they were on the road, Jon began to fiddle restlessly with the car radio. He changed channels so many times Sansa was two seconds away from hitting the brakes and throwing him out into the cold. Finally, he stopped, a bright smile pulling on his lips.

“I love this song.” He turned his whole body so he could look at her. “My mum used to sing it to me, but she’d replace ‘girl’ with ‘boy’.”

“With your curls, Snow, you could easily have passed for a girl,” Sansa told him, winking.

He laughed and shook his head. “Actually, people used to think I was a girl. Mum said I had such a full head of hair as a baby that people just assumed. I guess it didn’t help she dressed me in pinks and yellows all the time.”

“I bet you were a cute chubby baby.” And she bet he had the rosiest cheeks and the sweetest eyes. Oh, how she would have loved to see baby pictures of Jon. Unfortunately, the fire that took Lyanna’s life had also taken a good chunk of Jon’s childhood. So many memories lost in the ashes.

Jon shrugged, adorable little spots of pink on his cheeks. He didn’t say anything for awhile, but then suddenly in an incredibly off-key pitch, he started to sing. “Well I guess you’d say, what can make me feel this way?” He leaned forward. “My girl. Ooh, talking about _my_ girl. My girl!”

“Jon Snow, you are absurd.” But even so, Sansa couldn’t help the laughter bubbling through, as he continued to sing loudly and _very_ badly. He even made hand gestures. And she was embarrassed to admit that every time he pointed at her when he sang, ‘my girl’, hundreds of little butterflies flapped their wings excitedly in her stomach.

For the first time in months, as she sat here driving in the middle of the night with Jon singing beside her, Sansa felt free and unburdened by life’s realities. In this very moment, nothing could touch her. Not her past; not her insecurities; not even the knowledge that this was likely all there would ever be between them, because it didn’t matter. Jon was her best friend, the one person she counted on to always be there for her, and that was enough. She didn’t want or need any more.

_May 14, 2017 - Present Day_

It was getting warmer. The weather report said there would be a heat wave soon sometime at the end of May, which worried Sansa. She didn’t want Chloe to overheat. From all of the books she’d read about parenting, that was dangerous for a child as young as her. At the earliest opportunity, Sansa headed out to buy Chloe a fan for her room. It wasn’t hot enough _yet_ for there to be a fan, but she wanted to be prepared in case the heat wave hit a week or so early. Weather reports weren’t always accurate after all.

Only half of the shops were opened this early on a Sunday. The first two stores she went to didn’t even sell fans yet, and by the fourth, Sansa’s irritability was at an all-time high, so of course that was the exact moment her arch nemesis at work decided to call after her from down the street.

“Sansa, dear, it’s so nice to see you!”

She grit her teeth and forced a smile onto her face. “Melissa, hi. It’s lovely to see you too.”

“We’ve missed you terribly at work,” the dark-haired woman said in her false dulcet tone. Sansa loathed her. Melissa Ferretti had been eyeing her job for the past year. It was one of the reasons why Sansa had such a hard time going on maternity leave at first, but in the end, Chloe always came before anything else. Still, she _hated_ Melissa.

“I miss everyone there too,” Sansa said politely, hoping she sounded more sincere than she felt.

Melissa smiled broadly. “When do you think you’ll be back? I hope it’s soon.”

She very well knew that Sansa was taking close to a year off. She wasn’t going to half-arse raising Chloe. If she needed to, Sansa would rather quit her job than neglect her little wolf. “I can’t say yet. Chloe is still adjusting, so we’ll have to see.”

“ _We?_ ”

It had been second nature to her for the past four months to refer to Jon and her as a ‘we’. She forgot most people still knew her as Single Sansa. She _should_ tell Melissa that Jon was simply her co-parent and platonic housemate, but the surprise in her eyes made Sansa feel a little smug.

“Jon and I,” she said casually. “Actually, he’s with her right now and I promised I’d be home as soon as I’m done with my errands, so I’m afraid I have to run now. We should catch up sometime, Melissa.”

Sansa gave the other woman a perfunctory hug and quickly sped away before Melissa could start asking questions about who Jon was. “Okay, um… I’ll see you around!” Sansa heard from behind her. The smile now on her face was anything but insincere; it was perfectly self-satisfied.

After another ten minutes of wandering through town, Sansa _finally_ found a sizeable fan and began her journey back home. The storm from a month ago appeared to have cleared Scotland for summer. The grass looked brighter and the sun more prominent even on cloudy days. She had lived in London for four years, but being down there had only cemented her love for the north. People up here were kinder, more generous with their feelings and there was a sense of community here that London lacked. Most importantly, this was home. Growing up, that had never meant much to her, not in the way it did for the other Starks. Sansa had always felt _different_ , a runt in a pack of wild wolves. She left for London in the hopes that the dreams she harboured as a child would come true – glittering lights, new adventures and all the culture and art she could digest. In the end, Sansa found only heartbreak and an aching desire for home. Winterfell would always be where she belonged. Small as it was in comparison, it was the best place she knew, and driving through the hillside now towards her small little house, Sansa had never been more sure she made the best possible decision. If she hadn’t come home, she never would’ve had those last precious years with Robb and Margaery.

Pulling up into her driveway, Sansa noticed the window was open in Chloe’s nursery. Jon must be up. She hadn’t expected him to be awake yet. He got home at nearly three in the morning last night after what she presumed was a very late shift. She heard him stumbling about in the dark for a few minutes before his door shut and then silence. Late night shifts for them usually meant harrowing rescues and a part of her longed to speak to him about it, just to make sure he was doing okay, but they hadn’t really spoken much since that incident in town. She knew she didn’t have a right to be angry with him. Jon hadn’t done a single thing wrong except greet an old friend. It was Sansa with the problem, but confronting it seemed too complicated. It would only bring up things neither wanted to talk about right now.

Sansa left the fan on the floor in the lounge as she made her way up to Chloe’s nursery. The door was ajar, his voice drifting to where she stood frozen at the top of the stairs.

“I've got so much honey the bees envy me. I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees. Well I guess you'd say, what can make me feel this way?” Chloe giggled loudly, clapping her hands together, and she heard Jon’s responding chuckle. “That’s right, lil’ wolf. It’s you. You’re my girl. My favourite girl.”

Tears welled in her eyes. A part of her still thought of Chloe as her niece and resisted the idea of calling her Sansa’s daughter, but not for Jon. The moment he found out in the will what Robb and Margaery wanted, Chloe was his. And that became so crystal clear to her now. She _was_ his daughter. It wasn’t Chloe Tyrell-Stark any longer. It was Chloe Snow-Stark. She was as much apart of Sansa’s family as she was apart of Jon’s.

And whatever happened in their past, they owed it to Chloe to figure out, as complicated as it may be. Sansa needed to move forward.


	6. Reincarnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 6 prompt
> 
> jon's pov -- because so many of you asked for this <3 hope you like it!

The cool breeze coming in from the open window helped alleviate some of the stuffiness of the small nursery. Jon would have to buy a fan for Chloe when it got hotter. He read somewhere that children at her age were more vulnerable in the heat. At least the room looked much nicer now with the blue and yellow chest of drawers and white painted walls. Sansa even had one of her friends come in and paint cartoon clouds and fairytale creatures on the wall overlooking Chloe’s crib.

It had been just over four months since the funeral. Time didn’t seem to care for the grieving; it continued to tick on blind to those it left behind. Sometimes Jon still felt trapped in his tiny flat in Barcelona, perpetually reliving that phone call over and over again, unable to hear anything other than, ‘ _Jon, they’re gone. Robb, Margaery. It was a car crash_ ’ for four long months. How easy it had been for a minute to completely alter the course of his life.

But looking at Chloe in his arms, was it so awful for him to feel like this was where he was always meant to be? Nothing had ever felt as easy as loving her. It hadn’t even been a question when Jon was told about the will. He _would_ adopt Chloe; he _would_ raise her as if she was his own, and that was simply it. From that moment on, nothing in Jon’s life mattered as much as this little girl’s happiness.

The door creaked open, forcing both Jon and Chloe to look up. Sansa stood, showered in the morning sunlight, wearing a too-big-for-her jumper that Jon suspected was Robb’s and a pair of black trousers. Her hair was down, longer than he’d ever seen it, and she was beautiful. It didn’t matter that he’d known her twenty years. Jon would never stop thinking she was beautiful.

“Morning,” he said, smiling tentatively. Things had been strained between them for awhile now. He wasn’t sure why either, but there was an ocean of history between them and neither of them were willing to cross it. Jon wanted to, but he’d drowned before and it wasn’t an experience he’d like to relive.

Sansa trailed her hand along the doorframe as she swept her eyes around the room. “I heard you singing earlier.”

 _Oh_. Warmth spread quickly from his neck up to his cheeks. “Sorry. You weren’t home so I thought –”

“She really liked it.” She moved to stand before them, brushing back one of Chloe’s stray curls. “Even if…” Sansa paused, glanced up to meet Jon’s eyes, and smiled. “Even if her daddy is an awful singer.”

The gesture was small, but he knew it meant a whole lot more for Sansa. Losing Robb had torn her up more than she was willing to show. Where Arya screamed and cried and threw furniture around her flat, Sansa’s grief was quiet. She internalised everything, more than she should, more than she needed to. But this was monumental for her. For him too.

“I’m a far better singer than you at least,” Jon said easily, trying to downplay her words, even if it made his heart swell in a way he hadn’t felt in over a year. “I still remember the karaoke catastrophe of Arya’s eighteenth.”

Sansa’s face pinched together. “Well, whose bright idea was it to bring absinthe to the party!”

He laughed and raised his free hand. “Your brother and Theon’s. Don’t blame me. I had nothing to do with that.”

She huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder before bending over to pluck Chloe from his arms. She cradled the little girl and kissed her all over her face until Chloe started squealing with laughter. “Who’s my little wolf? Are you?” Sansa landed a big smooch to Chloe’s nose. “Oh, I think you are. Yes, my lil’ Chloe.”

Jon watched them and felt both affection and fear rear up inside of him. He had loved Sansa once, more than he had ever loved anyone else, and being here and raising Chloe with her was dredging up old feelings he suspected never truly went away. If he knew running away to Spain would be such a futile endeavour, he might have stayed and tried to fight for her. But Jon had to remind himself that she didn’t want him in the same way. She didn’t reply to his letter for a reason and he wasn’t going to bring it up. Neither of them needed their past to complicate this arrangement.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Sansa asked suddenly, as she balanced Chloe on her hip. “I can cook us up something.”

“I think it’s more brunch than breakfast now,” he said, as he stood up to face her. “Let me help.”

With Sansa carrying Chloe, he went and grabbed some of the little girl’s favourite toys to bring to her playpen downstairs. Thankfully, Sansa’s house had an open floor plan that allowed them both to be in the kitchen while still being able to watch Chloe.

It was the kind of Sunday he never thought he’d ever have. Being here with Sansa, listening to Chloe’s laughter and basking in a rare bout of sunshine, Jon was content. He’d never had anyone to come home to before. When he was growing up, his mum was always working double shifts to pay the bills. And as Jon got older, there were the odd flatmates here and there, but they were strangers under the same roof. It never bothered him. His job made sure he worked unpredictable hours, and after a gruelling shift, all Jon wanted was to spend time by himself. Since he moved in with Sansa, he found that he needed to be near them, to know that they were in the next rooms safe and sound, to sleep. Just their presence was enough for him.

Last night especially had been tough. His team spent hours searching for a missing boy and then very nearly lost him in the loch when the boy fell in. These jobs were always challenging. No one ever wanted to deal with the anxious and terrified parents – and god forbid if something were to go wrong. But that was simply a part of the job. You couldn’t save everyone. It was a lesson you had to learn early on. Since becoming a parent himself, however, Jon now felt those fears as if they were his own. The very thought that that boy could have been Chloe made his heart speed faster than a freight train. It didn’t matter that she was only ten months old; none of it mattered. In the dark of night, it was her life that had been on the line and nothing had ever terrified him more.

“Jon?” Sansa covered his hand with her own. Lost in his revery, he didn’t realise how tight he was gripping the wooden ladle. His knuckles had turned white and there was cold sweat matting his curls to his forehead. Sansa peeled the ladle from him and placed it on the counter beside her. The back of her palm came to rest over his head. “Are you poorly? Did you catch something last night?”

He shook his head and hated himself when he leaned into her touch. “We were searching for a boy,” he confessed. “And the entire time I kept thinking, what if this is Chloe? What if I lose her too?” He choked back a sob. “I never thought being a parent would be easy, but this fear – it’s horrible.”

Sansa exhaled slowly, a shuddering sound. He could tell she was imagining the scenario too. He could see it in the way she tensed and the slight crease between her brows. Even after all this time, Jon knew her. That should give him some semblance of comfort, but there was still so much distance between them.

“We’ll protect her as best as we can,” she said, thinking through her words one by one. “We can’t shield her from everything, but we’ll try. That’s all we can do.” Sansa hesitated before she took his hand again. “And I know you, Jon. If she was out there, you wouldn’t sleep till you brought her back home. Safe and sound.”

“You put too much faith in me,” Jon snorted.

“Because you’re the best person I know.” She smiled so earnestly it took his breath away.

He moved closer to her, holding onto her hand as if it was his lifeline. To his surprise, Sansa didn’t move away. “Sansa, I –”

“I’m sorry,” she said at the same time.

Jon inclined his head in confusion. “What are you sorry for?”

“My behaviour,” Sansa admitted, looking chagrined. She dropped his hand and pulled her hair to one side to plait it. She was nervous. “I’ve been distant with you the past month and you don’t deserve that.”

Of course he’d noticed, but Jon had come to expect that from her. They hadn’t exactly left things on good terms when he moved to Spain. Distance was practically a given when it came to them these days. As much as it pained him, he understood too.

“Yeah, I figured it was because of…”

“It was,” she cut in. “And it wasn’t. I don’t know, Jon. I guess I got jealous –”

His pulse sped up, hope flaring through him.

“But it’s selfish of me to expect you to devote your entire life to just Chloe and me,” Sansa finished. “If you wanted to date or something, that’d be… It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

And just like that, it was gone. Jon shook his head, trying to force a smile when his heart felt like lead in his chest. “Sans, I don’t want to date. My entire life right now _is_ you and Chlo.”

“I don’t want you to give up your life for us either. You shouldn’t have to –”

“Are you going to date?” he asked, wondering if this was why she brought it up.

Sansa blinked, perplexed and surprised. “No. Of course not.”

“Okay, then we don’t date,” Jon said firmly. “And we focus on Chloe.”

“No dating,” she repeated, nodding, and then smiling at him. “Okay. That’s… That’s okay.” She made to turn around when she faltered. “Actually, there’s one other thing.” Sansa pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. Another tell. She was still nervous about something. “I don’t know if I have any right to ask, but what happened between us last year, can we just forget about it? I want to go back to _us_. You were my best friend, Jon.”

_Forget?_

“You were there for me when Petyr began harassing me at work. You were there through _everything_ ,” Sansa continued, oblivious to the warring emotions inside of him. “I just want us to be that close again, but I’ll understand if it’s not what you want.”

It’s not, but what he wanted wasn’t what she wanted and he’d rather have Sansa in his life as a friend than nothing at all. He had nothing for over a year and it’d been hell.

“Sans, you’re still my best friend,” he chose to say instead – the truth yet so far from what he really wished he could tell her.

It almost didn’t matter though, because when Sansa threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and burying her face into his neck, it was like _finally_ coming home.

“I told Chloe that we were starting a new life,” she whispered, her breath tickling his neck. “That this would be our rebirth. Shedding away our past and beginning fresh.” She nosed the collar of his shirt. “I think this is ours too, Jon.”

He didn’t answer. He just held her and hoped to god he was making the right decision.

For him; for her; and for Chloe.

Jon really couldn’t afford to mess this up again.


	7. Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 7 prompt: broken hearts
> 
> this is super usper late so sorry

Arya didn’t look well. If anything, she looked worse than she did at the funeral, which didn’t seem possible to Sansa. But her sister was in a bad state. Even if Arya didn’t say anything, Sansa could tell. They hadn’t always been close in their younger years, but as they got older, it was easier to relate to Arya in a way she couldn’t at thirteen or fourteen. And she knew her sister felt the same way too.

Sansa placed the mug of tea in front of her and went to sit on the opposite sofa. She readjusted Chloe so the girl was sitting on her lap. “I’m not going to ask,” she started gently. “But you’re allowed to be broken. And there’s no time limit on how long you should feel that way. Just remember I’m here for you. Okay?”

There was a heavy sigh then a soft thud when Arya’s head met the back of the chair. “I know, Sans.” For a few seconds, that seemed to be all her sister was willing to talk about, but then she sighed again. “I’m worried about Rickon.”

This was news to Sansa. She still saw her family as often as she could, but with caring full-time for Chloe and writing part-time for a local women’s magazine, she was sad to say she didn’t see them nearly as much these days. If there was something happening with Rickon, it made sense she wouldn’t know about it, even if that knowledge hurt.

“What’s going on?”

Arya met her eyes. “Mum says he’s barely home. He’s always out and stays past curfew and he won’t talk to me or Bran about it.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” Sansa asked, frowning. Since they were kids, she had always doted on Rickon. They were close, or had been up until Robb’s death – and maybe this was her fault. She’d been so caught up with her own grief, she hadn’t stopped to consider anyone else’s.

“Because we didn’t want you to worry,” her sister said firmly. “You’re already doing so much here with Chloe. You didn’t need the extra burden.”

Sansa’s frown turned dark. “ _Burden_? He’s my brother too, Arya. I deserve to know these things!”

Her sudden mood change caused Chloe to abandon her musing over Sansa’s hair. She began tapping on Sansa’s cheeks, which had become her new favourite way of communicating as of late. Sansa inhaled deeply and looked down. “I’m okay, sweet girl. Don’t worry.” Chloe let out a string of incoherent sounds and tapped Sansa’s cheeks again.

“It’s funny,” Arya said, a hint of a smile in her voice. “When I heard the will, I thought this was going to be a bad idea for everyone. You’re only twenty-five and Jon didn’t even live in Scotland at the time. Probably didn’t help you both weren’t speaking for some stupid reason.” She chuckled then, and shook her head. “But if I were to see you three on the streets now, I would really think you guys were a family. Chloe even looks like you two.”

“We _are_ a family,” she responded, smiling back. “Chloe is – I’ve always loved her. She’s my first niece. But now, it’s like – I can’t explain it, Arya. It’s like waking up one day and realising what your life is really about, and for me now, it’s her. If she’s happy and safe, I’ll be okay.”

“I’m glad you have that.” Her sister leaned back with her mug and took a long sip. “I know it couldn’t have been easy in the beginning… I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help out. I just couldn’t…”

Sansa’s arms tightened around Chloe and she nodded. “I know.”

“How’s Jon?”

“He’s doing well,” she answered, realising that that really was true. Since their conversation a little over a month ago now, things between them had settled into a familiar rhythm. It almost felt like how they used to be. Only with a child together. “Summer’s a busy time for him. More hikers in the area now, so he’s been pulling a lot of late night shifts at the station.”

“ _Right…_ And you two are still okay?” Her sister looked sceptical, but then she probably had every right to be. Arya had been there when Sansa found out Jon wasn’t coming back, that his casual trip to see his estranged father had turned permanent, and although her sister still didn’t know exactly what had transpired between them, she knew Sansa losing Jon like that had felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

“We’re as good as we can be,” Sansa answered diplomatically. There wasn’t much else for her to say on the matter. Or wanted to say.

Arya evidently felt differently because she snorted and rolled her eyes. “Tell the truth, Sans. Lying in front of a baby is probably bad karma or something.”

“What exactly am I lying about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that you two are in love but are too dumb to realise it and now you’re raising a kid together.” Arya smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s some next level romcom sh - rubbish.”

With Chloe nearly one-year-old now, they were becoming more and more careful about the words they said around her. They didn’t want her first word to be a swear word, even if it would’ve made Robb extremely amused, but Margaery would come back from the grave to smack Sansa if it did happen.

“Jon and I are _friends_ and only that.” What she may have wanted was buried beneath a pile of rubble from a past life. Sansa had new priorities, and she _was_ happy to simply be friends with him again.

“Okay, _sure_ , and Bran isn’t secretly in love with Meera,” Arya said, smirking. “Honestly, what is up with my family and being totally inept at dating? When I realised I liked Gendry, I just kissed him.”

“That’s not fair,” Sansa said. “Gendry _told_ you he liked you.”

Arya shrugged. “And you could tell Jon you like him.”

“It’s not that simple. Besides, it was a long time ago.” Sansa averted her gaze and focused on Chloe, as she lied through her teeth. “I don’t think I even feel that way anymore. It was just a stupid crush.”

“What stupid crush?”

“Um…” Sansa stared wide-eyed at her sister, wondering how she had missed Jon coming home from work.

“Sansa’s stupid crush on Nick Carter when we were younger,” Arya supplied with a twinkling smile.

Jon’s laughter sounded closer than she had expected, and she turned just in time to see him bend his head and place a kiss on Chloe’s forehead. He caught her eyes as he moved away. “Hi,” he murmured softly. Sansa’s heart sped up like it was trying to break free from inside of her to reach him. “Hi,” she said, and hoped she didn’t sound as affected as she was. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “No, Sans. You cooked last night. It’s my turn; just relax.” Jon straightened. “Arya, you staying for tea?”

“Nah. Gendry and I are going out,” her sister said as she pushed herself up from the sofa. “I only came over to help plan the little one’s birthday party.” Arya rounded the coffee table to come pluck Chloe from Sansa’s arms. “I can’t believe she’s going to be a year old in a couple of weeks.”

“I know,” Jon exhaled. His smile was brilliant and so breathtakingly affectionate. “Our lil’ wolf is getting old.”

Watching Jon and Arya make faces at little Chloe, a feeling of serene joy washed over her. Life may have taken an abrupt turn, taking chunks of her heart and stomping on it, but things were finally beginning to feel okay again. They were Starks after all, and as long as they were together, they would survive.

The next morning, Sansa texted Rickon to come over for lunch. It took a lot of convincing, but after bribing him with whatever pizza he wanted to order, she finally managed to squeeze a little sibling bonding time with her youngest brother. She didn’t want to corner him; she figured he’d had enough of that for their mum, but Sansa was worried.

“You can stay, you know?” Sansa told Jon as he was milling around the kitchen with Chloe in one arm and a carton of milk in the other. He looked over and shook his head. She sighed. “Jon, it’s not like you don’t know Rickon. I know you and Robb got him drunk last year.”

He coloured. “Figured his first time drinking would be better with us.”

“You _really_ think that that was Rickon’s first time drinking?” She chuckled, patting his arm in a placating manner. “Was your first time drinking at seventeen?”

“No.”

“Then there you go,” she said. “Rickon takes after you both. Now if you had said Bran, that’d be a little more believable.”

Jon sighed. He placed the carton of milk on the counter so he could lift Chloe to eye level. “Listen here, lil’ wolf. You are not drinking ever. Do you understand?” She blew raspberries at him then poked his nose. “Okay, I think she gets it.”

She shook her head, laughing at them both.

Rickon arrived about a quarter past twelve just a few minutes before the pizza did. As a growing eighteen-year-old, he knocked back three slices in the span of five minutes. It was truly impressive, but hardly surprising. Robb and Bran had been the same way. Arya as well. She supposed the surprising thing was how Sansa managed to survive in a household of ravenous wolves.

She hoped Chloe had their appetite though.

“Easy, buddy,” Jon chuckled. He was settled on the sofa beside Sansa, bouncing a happy Chloe on his lap as she clutched onto her bottle. She was glad she was able to convince him to stay with them. Maybe if Jon was around, Rickon would be more willing to talk. “The pizza isn’t going anywhere.”

Rickon rolled his eyes and spoke around a mouthful of food, “I’m hungry. Shoot me.”

The quiet laughter filled the room with ease and familiarity. If Sansa tried really hard, she could almost pretend Robb and Margaery were in the kitchen arguing about one thing or another. Gendry, Arya and Bran would be on their way after having picked their mother up. All would be well again. But that was a dream she could no longer afford to entertain for too long. Her family was broken and Sansa was determined to fix it.

“Rickon,” Sansa started, lasting all of twenty minutes before finally caving. “What’s going on with you?”

He froze, his fingers tightening around his glass. A deep scowl so unfitting for his still childish features settled on his face. “What is this, an intervention? Why can’t you guys just leave me alone?”

“We’re _worried_ about you,” she emphasised. “We just want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine, happy?” Rickon spat out. “Everything’s bloody fine.”

“Rickon…”

“No, you know what?” Her brother stood up. “I’m not fine and I’m sick of you guys expecting me to be, okay? I’m sorry I can’t just move on and play house like you two and pretend Robb didn’t just die five months ago!”

He kicked the coffee table in frustration. The sound jolted Chloe and her lip began to wobble. Sansa quickly tried to diffuse the situation. “Rickon, we’re not saying that. No one’s pretending that didn’t happen.”

“Really? Because that’s not what it looks like,” he said, pointedly looking at Jon and Chloe. “What are you doing anyways, Sansa? Do you think living with Jon is going to make Chloe forget she lost her parents? That’s not far on Robb and Margaery!”

Anger unfurled swiftly, and Sansa stood up too. “Do you think it doesn’t hurt me! Do you really think that lowly of me? That I don’t give a crap about my own brother?”

“I –”

“No, you don’t get to come into my house and insult me and Jon like that! You don’t get to –”

The raised voices had clearly upset Chloe, as she began to cry. But it wasn’t the sound of her wailing that truly broke her heart. It was when she reached out her hands for Sansa and screamed, “ _mama!_ ”

Jon’s eyes widened and Sansa felt her strength crumble around her.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Real nice, Sans,” Rickon snorted before the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

Sansa fell back onto the sofa and took the still-crying baby into her arms. She kissed her forehead. “I’m here, darling girl. I’m right here.” But even she could hear how weak her own voice was; how wrecked hearing Robb’s daughter call _her_ ‘mama’ made her. Jon wrapped his arms around them and Sansa leaned into his touch, placing her head on his chest, as she continued to soothe away Chloe’s tears.

“We’re both here for you, ‘lil wolf.”

“ _Mama_ ,” she murmured again.

Sansa inclined her head up to look at Jon, as if for confirmation, but she wasn’t sure what she was asking of him. To his credit, he nodded anyways, and then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She exhaled slowly. “Yeah, Chloe. Mama’s here.”


	8. Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 8 prompt: free day
> 
> also combined for jonsa summer challenge day 2 prompt: celebration

“You look cute.”

Sansa turned around and scowled. “This is all your fault.” His barking laughter made her irritation grow ten folds. “It’s not funny! I look ridiculous.”

Jon walked further into her bedroom. He stood behind her just a few inches shy from where she was standing in front of the full-length mirror and pulled playfully on one of her plaits. “I don’t know. I think it’s quite fitting.”

She rolled her eyes. She was about to tell him how wrong he was when she finally took in what Jon was wearing. Dressed in a dark tunic with burgundy linings and pointy shoes, he looked even more absurd than her. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Jon’s ears began to turn pink. She forgot how easy it was to make him blush. Broad-shouldered and broody he may be, but Jon, at his heart, was a big softie. It was one of the reasons why she had fallen for him in the first place. There was just something so utterly endearing about an awkward man who didn’t know how kind-hearted and handsome he was.

Shaking her head, Sansa smirked. “Nothing. You just look _way_ worse than I do.”

“Hey, I thought I looked quite… dashing,” he protested, while smiling toothily at her. “But I guess we can’t all look like a princess now, can we?” He tugged her plait again and Sansa slapped his hand away.

“Stop that! You’re going to ruin my hair.”

His grin was smug as he inched closer. Jon bowed his head. “Aye, aye, m’lady. Whatever you say.” And with that, he turned on his heels and walked out of her room, no doubt grinning like a buffoon. Sansa ought to smack him, but she couldn’t help the grin on her own face from widening.

Of all the parties she thought she’d be hosting at her house, Sansa never thought she’d be hosting a one-year-old’s birthday party – at least not at twenty-five. She had spent most of the morning running around town buying last minute decorations and picking up the Olaf-themed birthday cake, while Jon, Arya and Gendry decorated the house. Blue and white streamers were tied to her bannister, a birthday banner to one of her walls, and more Frozen characters taped to her furniture than she ever expected to see.

She knew Chloe wouldn’t remember this, but Sansa would, and if she was honest, they all needed this. It had been six months since Robb and Margaery’s accident and there’d been very little to celebrate in that time. No one _wanted_ to celebrate, not when so much of their days were drowned in grief, but for Chloe, everyone was willing to push aside what pain they may be feeling to be there for the little girl. Even Rickon had shown up – although he still wasn’t talking to Sansa or Jon.

Descending down the stairs, Sansa’s grin grew wider at the sight of Arya and Gendry arguing over where a cardboard cutout of Olaf should go. It had taken her much less time to like Gendry than Margaery, but the big bullish man was sweet, genuine and utterly devoted to her sister. If there ever was a human personification of that heart eyes emoji, it would be Gendry when he was looking at Arya.

“Sweetheart, this looks wonderful.” Her mother greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. The bags under her eyes were visibly smaller and the smile was more genuine than Sansa had seen it in a long while.

“Thank you,” Sansa said, as she came to stand before her. “But it’s not all me. It’s them too.” She pointed to Jon and her siblings, who were now laughing as Arya hit Gendry over the head with the cardboard cutout. “Especially Jon.”

Her mother nodded. She knew Sansa hadn’t meant just today, and the quiet acquiescence was a victory in and of itself. God knew Catelyn Stark and Jon Snow had never quite seen eye to eye. Sansa suspected her mother always held a grudge because it was at Jon’s house that Robb first got drunk. It only grew when Jon was left as the guardian of Chloe.

“So where is the little birthday girl?”

“She’s down for her nap,” Sansa said. “I didn’t want her to get cranky just when the guests were starting to arrive.” The smile her mother sent her was bizarre and she couldn’t get a read on it. “What?”

“You, Sansa.” Her mother placed a hand to her cheek. “The way you’ve handled all this responsibility. I’ve never been more proud of you.”

“I told you, it wasn’t just -”

“And Jon too,” her mother cut in with an exasperated sigh. “I hate to admit it, but he’s good for you. For both of you. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“He loves Chloe and that’s all that I care about right now,” Sansa said testily. “So whatever else, mum, can you please just let it go?”

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t doubt that one bit,” her mother said with a shocked expression. “I may have been… _resistant_ -” Sansa snorted, but remained quiet at the look her mother sent her, “- at first, but he is a good man and a good father. Chloe is lucky to have him.”

“Then what is it? Why are you so difficult about us?”

“ _Because_ Sansa, what’ll happen when he meets someone else?” she asked quietly. “When he has a family of his own? I just don’t want to see you get your heart broken again.”

“ _Again_?” Sansa’s voice must have reached a higher decibel than she’d intended because Jon immediately looked over, his brow raised in question, but they had perfected nonverbal communication months ago, and with one look, he smiled and turned back to face Bran.

Her mother shook her head, as if she was disappointed. “I remember when he left for Spain. More importantly, I _know_ when a woman’s just had her heart broken.”

Sansa’s cheeks flushed. She inched away from her mother. “It wasn’t like that. I just - you know what? This is Chloe’s day. I don’t want to be talking about this.”

Without another word, Sansa retreated towards the kitchen. She braced her hands on the countertop and inhaled deeply. This was the second member of her family to call her out on it. Had she been so obvious even back then?

_February 11, 2016 - 2:36pm_

The car stuttered to a stop in front of a cluster of buildings. Sansa pulled down the sun visor and checked her reflection one more time. Lipstick? Check. Eyeliner? Check. Hair down or up? Sansa worried her bottom lip, as she considered the merits. She always did prefer to have her hair pulled back from her face. It was less of a hassle when at school. But if she left it down, maybe Jon would run his fingers through her hair, as he kissed her deeply.

Pulling the clip free, Sansa smiled at her reflection. Hair down? Check.

Today had been a long time coming. Jon was her best friend, the _only_ person who’d ever made her feel safe, and if he didn’t reciprocate her feelings, they’d still be okay. He loved her; it was just a matter of _how_ he loved her. Was it the same way she loved him? Because god, she loved him so much it ached in her bones.

The walk towards Jon’s flat was the longest in her life. It didn’t matter how many times she’d been here before. This time, she felt as if she was walking to the slaughter. A completely irrational thought, but one that created panicked and anxious butterflies in her stomach. She forced herself to continue, however, and headed towards the centre courtyard. Sansa was just rounding the bend when a familiar voice stopped her. She crept towards the edge of the wall and peeked out. Jon was standing on the steps of his building block. A blonde woman stood before him. She was beautiful.

“Val, what are you doing here?”

A feminine chuckle sounded in the air. “I heard you were heading off to Spain this weekend. I thought I’d come say goodbye.”

Jon laughed. “It’s not like I’m not coming back, you know?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to miss my opportunity.”

The blonde woman grabbed hold of Jon’s collar and pulled him to her. Sansa wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching them kiss. It could have been seconds or hours - time didn’t seem to exist. But the moment she saw Jon’s hands go to Val’s shoulders, Sansa bolted out of there. She got into her car and drove. Home wasn’t an option. She couldn’t bear to be alone right now and being near her family wasn’t an option either, not when Sansa was close to falling apart. Her only destination was anywhere but here; anywhere where he wasn’t, where they weren’t.

For the first time in her life, Sansa understood. She thought she knew when Joffrey cheated on her, but how she’d felt about him was nothing in comparison to how she felt about Jon. Losing Joffrey was a relief, a breath of fresh air after months of stormy sailing, but this was different. Sansa now knew what it felt like to have her heart break in two - to feel the cracks rip her slowly apart. She thought she could handle it if he didn’t love her back. She thought that she’d be okay and they’d just go back to being friends.

But maybe she wasn’t strong enough for that. Maybe this was it for them.

_February 11, 2016 - 11:36pm_

The key wouldn’t go into the lock. Why wouldn’t it go into the lock? Sansa frowned at the metal object in her hand and jabbed it once again at the slot. _Finally_ , it fit perfectly and she was able to stumble back into her house. For a long second, Sansa blinked at the not-so-dark room. She didn’t remember leaving the lights on. Maybe she had been burgled; or maybe -

“Where the hell have you been?”

Sansa jumped back, hand clutched around her bag, ready to swing at the intruder. When she saw it was just Jon, she scowled. “What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing in my house!”

“God, Sans, are you drunk?” Jon walked over to stand in front of her. His grey eyes looked obsidian in the dim lighting, but she could still see the concern there. She hated it. Who gave him the right to make her feel loved when he didn’t even really love her?

“I had a drink. What are you, the…” Sansa faltered, as she was unable to come up with an appropriate term to call him. But then genius struck and she added, “the alcohol police?”

Jon furrowed his brows. “Sansa, what are you doing drinking on a school night? Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

“I had a date!” she blurted out without thinking. It hadn’t really been a date. Sansa had bumped into Harry Hardyng at the pub and they drank and got dinner. But for some reason, it felt imperative right then for Jon to believe it was a date. “Am I not allowed to date? You date! Arya dates! Robb had plenty of dates before Margaery!”

“What? I never said you couldn’t -” He growled in frustration and turned away from her. “So you didn’t think to even ring me?”

“Ring you?” Sansa repeated, feeling increasingly confused and angry. “I didn’t realise I had to check in with you every time I did something.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!” he shouted now, apparently just as angry. “We had plans, Sansa. I -” He gestured behind him to her table. “I got you your favourite takeaway.”

“I’m sorry. When did we have plans?” she bit out. She should feel guilty, but there was something about this situation niggling at the back of her mind that told her to stand her ground.

Jon looked perplexed now. “We always have plans. Every Thursday.”

“Oh,” Sansa said, bristling. “You just expect me to always be there, don’t you? While you’re off doing whatever, _whoever_ you want, I’m supposed to just always be available for you.” That was it, wasn’t it? She _was_ always there whenever Jon called. “I had a _date_ , Jon! I’m sorry I didn’t ring, but I have a life outside of you!”

“And what am I to you? Just a placeholder until another guy comes into your life?” he spat back. “God, I thought you’d grow out of being such a prissy princess, but I guess not.”

Tears stung at the back of her eyes. She wouldn’t let him see her cry. Not like this. Sansa stepped forward, steeling herself, as she stared him down. “Get out,” she said as calmly and as coolly as she could. “Get the hell out, Jon.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, grabbing his coat and heading towards the door. “With pleasure.”

_July 17, 2017_

Someone touched her shoulder and Sansa nearly jumped straight out of her skin. She whirled around, her glare already firmly in place. It grew when she saw who it was that had startled her. “Bloody hell, Jeyne, you scared me!”

Her best friend snorted. “I did call your name like five times. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Sansa said. She pulled the birthday cake from its box and placed it on the stand – what she was meant to be doing instead of thinking back to one of her most painful memories. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”

“Okay. I’m not even going to ask what you were thinking about because I already know,” Jeyne said with a smug smile. “But it’s time to grab the birthday girl. The guests have mostly arrived now.”

Sansa nodded. She left Jeyne to prepare the snacks and went upstairs to wake Chloe from her nap. To her surprise, Jon was already there putting her into her Princess Elsa outfit, and it struck her then how different their relationship had been over a year ago. She might’ve dwelled on it more had the birthday girl not caught sight of her.

Chloe reached out her hands, immediately shouting, “mama, mama!” Sansa swallowed back the guilt and aching grief, and walked over to her little girl and pulled her into her arms. “Hi birthday girl, do you know how old you are today?”

“Don’t bother,” Jon said, straightening up. “I tried that earlier. She just continued to babble baby gibberish at me.”

“Awe,” she chuckled, patting Jon on the arm, before returning her focus back to Chloe. “Is your daddy sad because you love me best?”

It was becoming easier for her to refer to Jon as Chloe’s father. Maybe because she truly believed it. The way Jon was with her – there was simply no doubt in her mind that Chloe was his and he was hers. For some reason, however, Sansa couldn’t come to terms with it yet for herself. She loved Chloe with all her heart, more than she ever thought possible, but to call herself her mother seemed like a betrayal, even if she knew rationally it was what Margaery would’ve wanted.

“Hey, _not_ true,” Jon said indignantly. “The lil’ wolf loves me just as much. Don’t you, sweet girl?” He bent forward to kiss her on her forehead. Chloe giggled and tried to grab his nose. “See, told you.”

“Whatever you say.”

With Jon bringing down Chloe’s comfort blanket and stuffed snowman in case she became uneasy around the large crowd of people, Sansa cuddled Chloe close to her chest and murmured to her, hoping the soothing tone of her voice would prepare the little girl for a party.

Twenty minutes in, it turned out they didn’t have to worry at all. Chloe _loved_ being the centre of attention. Being passed around and kissed only made her peal with laughter, her babbling growing more and more excited. It didn’t mean Sansa was ready to classify the day as a success yet. Having raised a baby for the past six months, she knew how fast her mood could turn. It was like living with a tiny, very cute and non-threatening Hulk.

Sansa was just heading towards the kitchen to grab the cake when her phone buzzed – several text messages coming in quick succession. She pulled it out quickly just to turn it off so she could spend the day fully focused on Chloe, but what she read made her heart stop dead in her chest.

_He’s back, Sansa._

_They rehired him._

_Deborah said he’s going to be the assistant principal._

_I’m so sorry._

_Call me, okay? x_


	9. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 9 prompt: dragons
> 
> soo sorry it's so late!!

If someone had told him when he was twenty-five that one day he would be parading around a one-year-old’s birthday party dressed as a fictional icemaker, Jon might’ve said they were having him on. But here he was dressed as a fictional icemaker running around with a one-year-old in his arms. It felt as surreal as it felt _right_. Maybe in a distant part of his mind that he determinedly kept at bay, Jon had entertained the image of one day being a father and living in a home just like this with a wife and daughter that he loved and adored. Unfortunately, life had a funny way of giving Jon what he wanted. Not only was he _not_ married to the woman he was admittedly in love with, but the loss of his best friend and his wife still hung over them like a dark cloud. 

Chloe tapped on his cheek to regain his attention. She hadn’t learned any new word since the ‘ _mama_ ’ fiasco of a week ago, but she was more communicative than ever, babbling constantly and pointing to things she wanted. Right now, she was pointing to her stuffed snowman sitting on the sofa. 

“Alright, lil’ wolf,” Jon murmured to her as he kissed her temple. Her soft curls tickled his nose, and the sensation made his heart swell. Was it like this with all new parents? Did every laugh, every kiss, every single moment of their child’s life make them feel _so much_ in such a heart-wrenching way? 

He bent to pick up the snowman and placed it in Chloe’s grasps. She held on tightly, making smacking noises at the snowman’s nose. She then thrust it into Jon’s face. He sighed, smiling, and leaned his head in to give the snowman a kiss too. Chloe giggled. 

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day Jon Snow kissed a stuffed toy, but am I glad I’m wrong.” 

Jon turned and laughed brightly when he saw who it was. “Edd, mate. Thanks for coming. I know it’s not really your scene, but –” 

“What are you talking about?” Edd said with a mock incredulous expression. “There’s cake; there’s balloons and there’s creepy children’s music. What’s not to like?” He reached over and pushed a curl from Chloe’s face. “Hey, kid. If you ever want to break out of this joint, let me know.” 

“Please don’t steal my daughter.” Sansa stood behind Edd grinning, but Jon heard the hesitation before she called Chloe hers. It was work in progress for all of them, but most of all for Sansa, and he was still immensely proud of how far she’d come in the past six months. 

Edd jumped back in surprise, chuckling awkwardly. They’d only met a handful of times, but Jon doubted the two had ever had a real conversation. To his friend’s credit, Edd merely shrugged. “Well, gotta give her options, you know?” 

“And _you’re_ an option?” She was still smiling, so that eased the rest of the awkwardness away. But there was something in her smile that didn’t feel right to Jon, something wooden and stilted. He knew her well enough to notice the tells. 

“Well, if you’re an option, you should probably get used to holding her, right?” Jon eased Chloe into Edd’s arms, whose eyes widened considerably. “Just don’t drop her, yeah? I’ll have to kill you if you do.”

Edd laughed nervously. “Yeah… uh, sure. Wait, where are you going?” 

“I need to talk to Sansa for a minute. Last minute birthday stuff.” Jon sent a meaningful look to Sansa, who just inclined her head in confusion. He knew something was off, even if she didn’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t going to push her, however; he just wanted her to know that he was there if she needed him. 

Jon took her hand and tugged her upstairs to his bedroom. He shut the door as soon as they got inside. It didn’t occur to him that Sansa hadn’t been in here since he moved in four months ago. Something about that felt oddly intimate. 

“I like what you did with it,” Sansa said after a moment, as she sat down on his bed and looked around the small room. “It’s nice.” 

“Yeah,” Jon nodded, watching her take in his framed photo of Robb, Jon, Theon and Sam in Magaluf when they were eighteen – a memory that felt like it was from another life altogether. He sat beside her and picked up the photograph. “About ten minutes after this photo was taken, your brother made us drink a quad-vod.” 

Sansa’s face pinched with curiosity. “What’s a quad-vod?” 

“It’s four vodka shots in a pint glass mixed with a vodka mixer.” He shuddered at the thought. “It was messy. I don’t remember most of the night. We lost Theon for ten hours. And found Sam curled up on the floor of our shower.” 

Sansa giggled as she leaned back on his bed, shaking her head. “Sounds like Robb.” 

“Your brother was a menace,” Jon added. He mirrored her position, but angled his body so he could look at her. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” 

Her whole body froze. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nose. The seconds that ticked by filled him with nervous tension. They’d come a long way in six months. Jon doubted they would ever be as close as they used to be, but he hoped she still trusted him – and not just with Chloe. He wanted to be there for her in every aspect of her life. 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to freak out and go all… _Jon_ on me?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know, all protective and – just promise me, okay?” Sansa sighed again. She looked tired, more world-weary than he’d seen her in a long while, so maybe that was why he nodded his agreement despite getting the feeling that he was about to regret it.

“My coworker Annie. You met her, right?” She shook her head. “Anyway, she texted me earlier. She said…” Jon reached for her hand and squeezed, offering her support. She smiled in turn, but it was weak, barely even reached her eyes. “Petyr’s back, Jon. He’s back and… and he’s the assistant principal.” 

His mum always told him he had dragon blood in him. As a child, Jon didn’t understand the meaning behind her words. They appeared harmless, something he had taken pride in as a young boy looking to carve a piece of the world for himself, but as he grew older, he knew. Within these veins his blood burned, lava racing to his heart and igniting his soul. Anger, barely restrained, washed over him and he could feel the dragon inside raring for a fight, as it had done so many times in his youth. 

“Jon, stop it.” Sansa’s voice registered only for a fraction of a second, as he stood up and paced the room, fists clenching and unclenching. She stood up too. “I don’t need you to protect me. I didn’t tell you so you’d go running off to be my knight-in-shining-armour.” 

It was her reciprocating anger that began to calm him. 

“I told you because I _need_ you,” she said, no less angry, but gentler now. _Sweeter_. Her voice was always so sweet to him. “I need you to be here with me, Jon. I can handle Petyr, but I don’t want to –” She faltered, and just like that, the anger was gone and in its place was concern, love and the gut-wrenching need to hold her. Jon cradled her face in his hands and made sure she could see all of that reflected in his eyes. She exhaled. “I don’t want to do this alone.” 

“You’re never alone,” he said fervently. “You have your family. You have Chloe. And you have me. Always me.” Even while he was in Spain trying to move on, she always had him. Maybe that was just a truth he’d have to come to terms with. 

Her eyes shone bright, and past the fear, the insecurity and doubt, he could see the quiet strength Sansa always carried. God, he wanted to kiss her, so wholly and _desperately_ it ached. Instead, Jon pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering a few seconds too long, before leaning back. 

“I love you, you know that, right?” 

It was torture to hear those words and know that she didn’t mean it the way he wanted, but if Sansa could only love him as a friend, it was better than being without her altogether. He knew that firsthand now. 

“Yeah, Sans,” Jon nodded, smiling at her. “I love you too.” 

For a split second, her brows furrowed, creating deep grooves in between them. This was a look he couldn’t decipher. Was she angry? Confused? Jon had the mind to ask her, but instead, he chose to smooth out the lines with the pad of his thumb, watching as she closed her eyes and her lips part, a soft exhale that he could feel right to his very core. It would be so easy to lean in now, so easy to place his lips on her, gentle, coaxing and questioning. But before Jon could make up his mind, the door burst open and they both jumped apart. 

“Chloe keeps crying out for _‘mapa_ ’ and we have no idea what that means. Is it a toy or –” Arya smirked and backed away slowly. “You know what? I’m sure we can find out on our own.” 

“No, wait!” Sansa shouted, practically running from the room after her little sister. 

Jon stayed where he was, his fingers tingling with the remnants of her touch on his skin. His blood still burned, but this time, it was burning for an entirely different reason. 


End file.
